This is the last Friday of spring training. We spend every day from November through March fouling off every Uncle Charlie winter throws us just to get to Opening Day. In six days, the games start to count.
If there is one magic place in this world, it is Wrigley Field on a warm, summer day with a slight breeze pushing baseballs out toward Sheffield Avenue. A Cubs game removes the sting of Chicago’s winters. You take a deep breath, relax your shoulders, settle into your seat with a dog and a beer. Then you exhale. You’ve left the bad taste of last season behind and you greet the promise of a new season with the smell of fresh grass and the sound of a bat barreling up a fastball, seconds before said fastball exits the stadium.